


Book One: The Vagabond

by HorizonTheTransient



Category: The Gods Are Bastards - D. D. Webb
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Isekai, Portal Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-01-26 14:53:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21375907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HorizonTheTransient/pseuds/HorizonTheTransient
Summary: Teller Corcoran wakes up in a church with no clue how he got there, and embarks on a quest to find his way home.
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

"Ugh..."

"Ah, and he's finally awake."

Teller opened his eyes, and then promptly closed them again. "Ow. Too bright."

"Ah, right, albinos are light-sensitive. Here." The room dimmed, and he carefully opened his eyes again, straining to adjust. "Are you alright?"

"...I feel like I got hit by a truck," Teller muttered, rubbing at his eyes. "Where am I?"

"In the church," the other person in the room said. Teller still couldn't make out much detail, unfortunately. "More broadly, we are in the frontier town of Last Rock, in Northern Calderaas Province."

"...That sure is a lot of proper nouns I've never heard in my life," Teller said.

"Well, speakin' of proper nouns, what's your name, son?"

"Teller Maxwell Corcoran," he said. "And yourself?"

"Father Laws. I'm the parson, 'round these parts." As Teller's vision slowly cleared up, he could make out that he was talking to a man in a black robe, with black hair and dark brown skin. The room itself was of grey cobblestone, with a gentle blue glow cast over it, and the sheets were the color of straw, so there didn't _ seem _ to be anything wrong with Teller's color vision. Just the rest of it. "We found you unconscious in the tallgrass just outside town. Lucky we've got an elf who likes going on walks, otherwise you mighta woken up out there, too."

"Well. Don't imagine the sunlight woulda done me much good," Teller muttered. "Not to be nosy or nothin', but... what exactly are you a parson of?"

"The Universal Church," Father Laws said. "But if you mean what god I follow, I follow Omnu, the god of the Sun, Life, and Agriculture."

"You're a priest of the sun god," Teller said.

"Eyup. I reckon you ain't got any kind words for the old man?"

"Omnu can suck the farts outta my ass with a straw."

"Now _ that _ is one I ain't heard before. Well, Teller, I don't suppose you've got yourself a hat hidden on your person somewhere?" Father Laws asked.

"Nope."

"Reckoned as much. Well, we keep a few spares here at the church, and I doubt anyone'd disagree givin' you one is what they're here for. Don't want you burnin' like a vampire in a dime novel, after all."

"Thank you kindly," Teller said, slowly extricating himself from the bed. "I don't suppose you know where I can find a library, do you?"

"There's one at the University up on top of the mountain, but... well, it's a bit of a walk, and I ain't sure if they'll let you in," Father Laws said.

"...Eh, what the hell. Ain't like I got better things to be doin'."

* * *

"This is a very good map for something you drew in ten minutes, Mr. Corcoran," Professor Arachne Tellwyrn said.

"_ Doctor _ Corcoran, if it's all the same to you," he said.

"Doctor of _ what _, cartography?"

"Parahuman Studies. A field I imagine does not exist on this world, or, if it does, is wildly different from the one I'm from."

"Right, that." She set the map down on her desk, and steepled her fingers. The two of them were in her office; Teller had been divested of his hat, which hung on a hook by the door, and as concession to him, the window had been shuttered and all the lights but one turned off. Still, he found himself largely unable to make out much detail, beyond that the woman in front of him was pale and blonde, and dressed in green. "You, Doctor Corcoran, are apparently some manner of dimensional refugee. Fortunately for you, you're sitting face to face with a woman who's spent very nearly three thousand years of her life on a similar quest. If anyone can help you, it's me."

"So you're a wizard and you can cast a spell to send me back home?" Teller asked.

"Well, no," Arachne said. "But I _ can _ tell you _ exactly _ how I got the attention and audience of every single god that still lives today, and as a matter of fact, I happen to have a _ very _ good starting point for you. Do you, by any chance, play an instrument?"

"Used to be a music teacher, actually," Teller said. "I play a _ lot _ of instruments. Well, instruments back home, anyhow. Things may be... different, here."

"Well, if they _ are _different, you're in luck, because your best starting point will be Vesk, the God of Bards, Story, and Song," she said. "His central temple is in Tiraas, the capital city of the Tiraan Empire. Go there, play a song he's never heard before, and you'll get your audience with him quickly enough."

"And Tiraas is..."

Arachne pointed at the map of the world they were actually in, which hadn't been hand-drawn in pencil by a teenager. "Right there, in the middle. On the coast of the Gulf of Punamanta, and also almost directly south of Last Rock. It's a short Rail ride, not even a full day. But..." She frowned, tapping her chin. "I've noticed you have something of a problem with your eyes. What, _ exactly _, is it?"

"I'm an albino," Teller said.

"Yes, I can tell. What's wrong with your eyes, though?"

"Albinism, in most of its forms," Teller began, as though reciting from a textbook, "causes problems in the eyes. The most _ obvious _ of those is the complete lack of pigmentation in the iris, rendering them translucent and thereby a dull red, as the retina shows through. This results in the infamous albino sensitivity to bright light. _ However _ , it can _ also _ cause problems in the development of the retina and the ocular nerve, causing blurred eyesight that cannot be completely corrected with eyeglasses or contact lenses. In addition, it can cause quick and uncontrollable eye movements, called nystagmus, and it can also cause lazy eye and issues with depth perception."

Arachne frowned as she took this in.

"...You're remarkably well-read for someone with such terrible eyes," Arachne said.

"Oh, they weren't _ nearly _ so terrible yesterday," Teller said. "Why, yesterday, in my home world, they worked perfectly. Better than 20-20 vision. I made most of my living as an artist, you know. But, well... The magic of the old world doesn't work here anymore. Would you believe I used to be one of the most dangerous magicians to walk the earth? I commanded flame and wind with masterful precision, and I could see into the future, and see exactly what my opponent would try, and how to defeat them. But now... now I'm just a kid with some scars and bad eyes."

"You sound like you have stories to tell," Arachne said.

"Perhaps a few," Teller admitted. "They may take a while to provide the context for; I have no idea how much common ground our worlds share, and while your world _ seems _ quite fascinating, with the magic and the fact that you're apparently three thousand years old. And, not to sound ungrateful for your hospitality, but I am in _ somewhat _ of a hurry to go home. I'd prefer this to be merely a short interlude in the story of my life, not a full goddamn book."

"Don't get your hopes up too hard," Arachne warned. "I just told you- I spent three thousand years hounding the gods, trying to find out where I'm from. Success is by no means guaranteed, and you may end up needing to come to terms with the fact that you're stuck here."

"Perhaps," Teller said with a shrug. "This is a university, correct?"

"You're willing to go _ back _ to college?" Arachne asked, leaning back in her chair.

"Oh, my doctorate is honorary," Teller said. "Today is quite literally the first day I have ever set foot on a formal educational campus."

"...Don't take this the wrong way, but I dearly hope your quest fails, and you come back here for a few years," Arachne said. "I want _ explanations _ for all this horseshit."

"And _ I _ dearly hope to bitterly disappoint you," Teller said cheerily. "So... I reckon things have more or less run their course, here in this conversation. What next?"

"Well, we still need to do something about your eyes. I've got a healer on campus, I'll have her take a look. And if she can't fix it, well... I'm Arachne Goddamn Tellwyrn. I'll figure something out."

* * *

"Alright, that should work," Arachne said, taking a few steps back. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three," Teller said. He now wore a pair of ordinary-looking sunglasses, with oversized lenses shaped specifically to stretch from brow to cheekbone, nearly completely filling in the surrounding orbit of his eye. As an added bonus, he found himself able to make out enough detail to realize that Arachne was, in fact, a pointy-eared elf. Not that he was about to say as much, of course; there were some blows his pride was unwilling to take.

"Excellent. Oh, I don't suppose you mind if I steal that lens design and claim I invented it myself?"

"Sure, why not," Teller said, shrugging. "Where I'm from, these are called Aviator sunglasses. They were worn by the pilots of small aircraft to protect their eyes from whatever may be floating around up in the skies. They caught on with the general public shortly afterwards, for reasons both sociological and practical. Turns out, protective eyewear that's shaped to cover almost every angle something could approach your eyes from are _ really good _ at their job."

"Aviator... Well, I'll have to come up with a new name for them, but that shouldn't be difficult," Arachne muttered. "Well. While you were with Taowi, I had a word with my librarian." She snapped her fingers, and the librarian appeared in the room, sitting down on a chair that hadn't come with him, and very shortly on the floor instead. "This is Damian 'Gravestone' Weaver, a retired adventurer, and former student of this university. He'll be your guide on your trip to Tiraas, and he'll _ also _ be holding the pursestrings. The University will cover your expenses, but only if you can convince Gravestone of its necessity."

"...so, since I have to go play a song Vesk has never heard before, does that include giving me some kind of instrument?" Teller asked. "Or paying for, say, a hotel room, materials, and tools if I end up having to put something together myself?"

"It absolutely does, yes," Arachne said. "It _ also _ covers your food. Don't walk into any fancy Glassian places, but otherwise, do whatever. Damian, go _ pack _ , I told you to do that half an hour ago and you were _ still _ sitting on your ass."

"I never agreed to this," Damian protested, in the tone of a man who knew he already lost but wanted to register his displeasure anyways.

"If you actually bothered to read your employment contract, you'd find that you absolutely _ did _ agree to this," Arachne said. "Everyone who works here, with only a few exceptions, is eligible to be sent out to chaperone an expedition of my choosing. That Teller here isn't a student doesn't change anything; he's made his appeal, and I've found it compelling, so off you go to Tiraas to help him speak with your god."

"I hate you," Damian said, glancing at Teller.

"That's fair," Teller said with a shrug.

"Damian, go pack. And Teller, drop this message off at the scrolltower- the tallest building in town, made of metal scaffolding, with a glowing crystal ball on top. Tell the man working there that I sent you." Arachne handed him a scroll. "The two of you are riding the Caravan to Tiraas, so pack anything breakable _ very _ carefully."

"Why can't you just teleport us there directly?" Damian asked.

"Oh, I can," Arachne said. "I just don't want to. I _ will _, however, spare the blind man the trouble of walking down the mountain."

* * *

"You know," Teller said loudly, at the base of the mountain, holding the scroll. "Where I'm from, you're supposed to _ ask _ before teleporting someone! It's called _ manners_, you goddamn _ jackrabbit!_"

A grand, glittering hand of blue light appeared above and before him, flipping him off.

"Fuck you too," he said, turning around and starting to walk towards the scrolltower.

"Got into a fight with the big bad Tellwyrn, didja?" a woman with black hair, pale skin, and pointy ears said. She was leaning against a wooden post holding up the roof over someone's porch, enjoying the shade. "Least you got all your body parts still attached. What's your name?"

"Teller Corcoran," he said. "And you... would you happen to be the elf who likes going on walks Father Laws mentioned?"

"Yep," she said, straightening up and walking over. "Name's Principia Locke, pleased to meet you."


	2. Chapter 2

"Huh. Straight to Tiraas, huh?" Principia said, after Teller explained his current agenda. "You sure you're fit to ride the Rails, this soon after all that excitement?"

"I'm not exactly made of spun glass, here," Teller said. "I've survived worse than a train ride through the countryside."

"Trust me, however bad you think the Rails are, they're a  _ lot _ worse. You ever tried to ride a horse that didn't want to be ridden?"

"...What the hell is wrong with your infrastructure?"

"Growing pains," Principia said with a shrug. "It was  _ not _ very long ago that the Rails were invented and installed. Well, not very long ago for me- I'm two hundred and forty seven years old."

"How long do elves live?" Teller asked.

"Forever, provided nothing kills them," Principia said with a shrug. "So, for Drow or Plains Elves, usually no longer than a few hundred years, but for Wood Elves... well, my mom's more than three thousand years old. So's Arachne up there on the mountain. Anyhow, the Rails here are probably pretty new from a human perspective, too. You're heading to the Scrolltower, right? Well, the old man working it was probably raising his first son before the Rails finally came along."

"I see," Teller asked. "Well, here's an odd question- how  _ rude _ is it to ask how old an elf is?"

"You're asking the wrong person," Principia said. "I left the groves long ago, and I've been living with humans ever since. And back at the grove... well, I didn't leave because I cared about elven ideas of manners."

"Fair enough." Teller opened the door of the scrolltower office, and walked in, pushing the door open enough for Principia to follow. "Howdy. Arachne told me to give you this," he said, handing the scroll to the man working the counter.

"She did, did she?" the old man said, taking the scroll and opening it up. "Lessee here... looks like she's chartering a Rail caravan from here to Calderaas, an' buyin' two tickets from there to Tiraas. Don't suppose she sent  _ Prin _ with you, did she?"

"Nah, she's just on one of her walks, and felt like keepin' me company," Teller said. "Name's Teller Corcoran, by the by."

"Silas Crete," the old man said with a grin. "Mighty pleased ta meetcha, Mr. Corcoran."

" _ Doctor _ Corcoran, if'n ya don't mind," Teller said.

"So are you talking like that to try and impress him, or are you  _ actually _ every bit the hayseed he is?" Prin asked.

"You'll have to excuse Prin," Silas said, turning around and feeding the scroll into one of the machines attached to the scrolltower proper. "She's what we call a... oh, what was the term..."

"Pain in the ass?" Teller suggested.

"There we go."

"I have been nothing but polite to you," Prin said, well,  _ primly _ .

"You called me a hick," Teller said.

"I  _ implied _ you were  _ either _ duplicitous or a  _ hayseed _ ," Prin articulated carefully. "There's  _ nuances _ , here."

"You have many friends, Prin?" Teller asked.

"Not in town, no."

"Hang on now," Silas said, turning around. "I jes' thoughta somethin'."

"Oh?" Teller asked.

"Prin in the ass."

The two men laughed, and Prin rolled her eyes.

"Make it three tickets, Silas," Prin said. "I've decided I need a vacation."

"Now, I don't presume to know every detail of my nephew's business, but I reckon he ain't gonna be too thrilled that his waitress won't be comin' in for her shift tonight, alla sudden," Silas said.

"He hired an elf," Prin said with a shrug. "He knew what he was getting into."

"What is it about me you find so interesting?" Teller asked.

"Elf stuff," Prin said. "Don't worry about it."

"Mm. Well, I'm not paying for your ticket, and neither is Weaver. You're on your own there, unless you can impress him enough to consider you a necessity for our trip."

"...How long until the Caravan arrives?" Prin asked.

"Bout twenty five minutes," Silas said, glancing at the clock. "Best hurry, girl."

* * *

"Huh, looks like I could see the Caravan earlier than you could," Teller muttered. "These are  _ really _ good glasses. Give Arachne my thanks if this works and I don't see her again."

"...the  _ fuck _ do you mean?" Gravestone asked.

"I'm going to see Vesk because I'm not from this world, and I want to go back home," Teller explained. "Oh, by the by- I've accidentally picked up a stray. Principia Locke is going to try to impress you into paying her ticket fare, just as a heads-up. Where  _ is _ she, anyhow? Silas told her twenty five minutes."

"Ugh, Prin," Gravestone muttered. "You just  _ had _ to go and make things worse, didn't you?"

"She seems nice," Teller said. "A little sassy, but so's Arachne, and  _ she _ has decided on a whim to just fund this expedition to Tiraas to solve my personal problems, for literally no gain to herself."

"No gain  _ if _ it works," Gravestone said. "Which it probably won't, because of all the adjectives I'd apply to Vesk, 'helpful' isn't one of them."

"Really, now."

"The gods aren't in the habit of solving anyone's problems for them, boy," Gravestone said bitterly. "The gods are bastards. Fuck every last one of them in reverse alphabetical order, with extra sodomy for the ones whose names start with V."

"What the hell did Vesk do to  _ you? _ "

"Actually, it's Vidius I'm mad at," Gravestone said. "And nobody particularly likes Verniselle, and Vemnesthis... Well, actually, Vemnesthis is probably fine. Nobody hears from him except people who try to time travel, and what they hear is a very loud 'no.'"

"You have four gods whose names start with V," Teller muttered.

"Eyup."

"I hate them too, now."

"Good. Oh, here, Arachne said you should read this."

"... _ Athwart The Gods, _ " Teller said, reading the title out loud. "Treatises on diverting and manipulating the attention of deities."

"Said you'd need it, since she wasn't coming with us."

"Huh. Well, it'll be something to read on the train."

"Good luck with  _ that _ ," Gravestone said.

"I'm back," Prin said, suddenly standing between the two, and dodging a stab from Teller. "Whoa there, easy."

" _ Do not sneak up on me like that _ ," he growled, a folding knife in his hand.

"Well,  _ someone _ was an adventurer," Gravestone said.

"Seven years, and sixty eight corpses," Teller said, flicking the knife closed and putting it away.

"That's a hell of a resume," Prin said. "What the fuck have  _ you  _ been doing to get that?"

"Killing people, obviously," Teller said.

"Well, yeah, but-"

"Do you want me to go back to trying to stab you?"

"I would pay good money to watch you two fight to the death," Gravestone said.

"Now, that would  _ hardly _ be a fair fight," Prin said. "I am, after all, an elf."

"Yeah, like elves have never lost fights with humans before," Gravestone said. "You forget, humans are stronger and tougher than elves are."

"Not as much as you think."

"Oh? Then how about you and Teller have an arm-wrestle right here?"

"I don't see any tables," Teller said. "Speakin' of tables, let's table  _ this _ discussion for later, maybe?"

"That reminds me," Prin said as the caravan approached. "I made something you two might appreciate, for the trip."

* * *

"I can't believe those things don't have seatbelts," Teller muttered, stepping off the Rail Caravan in Tiraas station. "That was like a fucking  _ rollercoaster _ , except  _ worse _ ."

"What the hell is a rollercoaster?" Gravestone asked.

"I'll tell you when you're older."

"I'm an enchanter, see," Prin explained, stuffing the last of her charmed stick-anywhere seatbelt rigs into a bag of holding on her belt. "Mostly small stuff, but sometimes, the small stuff makes all the difference."

"I'm glad  _ someone _ enjoys the sound of your voice," Gravestone said bitterly.

"Well, of course," Prin said. "Alright, boys, come on, enough gawking. We're in Tiraas now! Let's see the big city!"

"I see y'all have the tech for cheap steel and glass," Teller said. "Either that, or this publicly accessible building is just wildly expensive for no good reason."

"Let's just get to the Temple of Vesk and get this over with," Gravestone said.

"Actually, our first stop is a pawn shop for a cheap guitar," Teller said.

"I've  _ got _ a guitar  _ already _ ," Gravestone said.

"I specified cheap guitar for a reason," Teller said. "Trust me, bud. You do  _ not _ want me using yours."

"I happen to know where the nearest secondhand store is," Prin said.

"I'm sure I'll come to regret saying this, but... lead the way."


	3. Chapter 3

"Alright, so, we've got a big-ass spool of magnet wire," Teller muttered. "Some rare-earth magnets. A cheap guitar with metal strings, which Gravestone is currently restringing for me- thank you for that, by the way."

Gravestone wordlessly grunted.

"So, what exactly are you going to  _ do _ with all this?" Prin asked, glancing at the materials Teller hadn't named- some planks, cardboard, a lot of hide glue, and some more wire.

"You'll see. Oh, Prin, here's a question- does enchanting have any way of amplifying an electrical current? One that, hopefully, doesn't output the exact same current no matter what you put in?"

"Yeah, enchanting can do that," Prin said. "Pretty simple charm, really. Why do you need it?"

"Well, I'm not working with wires and magnets because they're a neat decorative touch," Teller said flatly. "Alright, let's get to work, and hope the hotel doesn't throw us out for making a mess in here."

* * *

Two days after they arrived in Tiraas, the three of them left their hotel room early in the morning, and walked to the Temple of Vesk- Gravestone had wanted to hire a cab, but had been overruled by Prin, who wanted Teller to see more of the city on foot, and Teller, who wanted to stretch his legs.

"I hate both of you," Gravestone said.

"You hate  _ everyone _ ," Teller said. "It just doesn't feel special."

"Besides,  _ everyone _ hates me," Principia said. "It's probably because I'm so amazing, and everyone else is overwhelmed with jealousy."

"Yes, Prin, that is exactly why people don't like you, and it is the  _ only _ reason people don't like you," Teller said. "You are just so unimpeachably perfect, and it  _ definitely _ isn't the fact that you are perhaps the most obnoxious thing to go on two legs I have ever had the displeasure of sharing a planet with."

"Yes, exactly," Prin said, nodding.

"Hate you.  _ So _ much," Gravestone said.

"Oh come on, at  _ least  _ come up with a creative way of saying so," Teller said. "You're a Bard, aren't you? I expect better from you."

"Lick my shithole."

"See, was that so hard?"

* * *

The Temple of Vesk was slowly waking up, late in the morning, when a bone-white man in a button-down shirt and blue jeans walked in, holding a guitar in his hands, followed shortly thereafter by a black-haired wood elf woman holding a strange-looking box in her hands. The guitar and the box were connected by a thick black cable, and the two walked in lockstep.

Behind them trailed in Gravestone Weaver, who the few awake Bards recognized instantly.

"What the hell-" one of the Bards got out before the bone-white man strummed the guitar, producing a loud, electric wail from the box. The man came to a stop, and the elf carefully set the box down next to him, before stepping back.

The guitar produced a strange, exotic sound none present knew a guitar could produce, and at volumes louder than anyone expected, as the bone-white man continued to play, starting off with a descending arpeggio, then slowly climbing back up, ending on a high squeal, before playing what seemed like an actual song- albeit, none that they had heard before.

As he did so, more and more Bards woke up from whatever hangovers they may have had, and trailed into the central atrium, all silently listening to the warbling, wailing melody. After just a little longer than four minutes, he came to an end, with a descending arpeggio and finally a power chord.

Silence reigned in the atrium, for just long enough to be broken by the sound of a man clapping, and walking slowly across the marble floor in hard-soled shoes.

"Beautiful," Vesk said, as Teller turned to face him. "You're cheating, of course, but... well, I  _ do _ owe you some answers as it is. Make a hole, folks. You know the rules, he's earned a  _ private _ audience with me."

"Prin and Weaver are coming with me," Teller said, picking up the amplifier by its handle. 

"Nope," Vesk said. "They don't have anything to contribute to this conversation, anyhow. You'll be  _ fine _ , I'm not here in my capacity as a trickster deity. C'mon. This way."

* * *

"I bet you're wondering how you got here," Vesk said, as the two settled into some wooden deck chairs on a west-facing balcony. They had a good view of the city of Tiraas just before midday, and the city rather impressed Teller with its beauty. Most of the buildings were of stone, but not in a cobbled-together manner; rather, it looked like a concentrated sampler of the world's greatest stonework buildings, with expertly-carved bricks of granite supporting soaring arches of limestone, and spires of marble. Not for nothing was the City Upon Mount Tira the capital of the continent-spanning Empire.

"You said you already owed me some answers," Teller said. "Ergo... it's probably your fault."

Vesk chuckled a little. "Well, kinda. See... The Pantheon, this current crop of gods? We aren't actually the first Gods to walk this earth."

"Oh for fuck's sake, get to the point," Teller said.

"The first Gods are, these days, called the Elder Gods," Vesk continued. "And they left behind a variety of artifacts. Including gates capable of creating portals to other universes. These universes were ones where their favorite stories were real- such as, for example... Middle-Earth. The Cosmere. Azeroth."

"Do you mean to tell me that the Elder Gods were tremendous nerds who once shared a planet with me?" Teller asked.

"Oh, no no no, you're from one of those universes," Vesk explained. "Your story was one Naiya was fond of, as a teenager, and she commissioned the gate before realizing that pulling you through the gate would be a shitty thing to do to you, so she instead just stuck the gate in a closet and left it inactive. Now, I bet you're wondering, where does Vesk, God of Story and Song, come into play?"

"Well, no," Teller said. "The gates lead to fictional universes. You're the God of Fiction. They're kinda a major part of your domain."

"Ah, you  _ are _ a smart one," Vesk said. "Yes, I made a hobby of collecting all the gates I could find, and keeping them in quarantine, all of them powered off. They were reminders, to me, of just how much I fucking  _ hate _ the Elder Gods and the stories they were obsessed with. Well! One day, for the first time in thousands of years, your gate powers itself on, and spits out a vicious murderer. And before I can send you back through, I get a visit from Avei, Goddess of War, Justice, and Women, and she's screaming her head off about security risks, and starts destroying the gates. And, in the name of security, the  _ first _ one she smashes is the one that's powered on. Y'know.  _ Your _ gate."

"...Son of a bitch," Teller muttered.

"So, yeah. I'm really, truly sorry, but I can't help you," Vesk said. "You're going to have to take it up with Avei. And good luck with  _ that _ \-  _ she _ doesn't appear to mortals just for playing a song she's never heard before. You'll have to get an audience with her Hand, first- and the current Hand of Avei is squirreled away in an Abbey that does  _ not _ , as a general rule, permit men inside- and  _ then _ you're going to have to convince her Hand that your problem warrants calling down Avei in person to deal with it."

"...Well, that'll teach me to let Weaver complain about this being too easy," Teller said. "I don't suppose you can help me with this leg of the journey?"

"I don't need to," Vesk said. "You've already got all the help you need."

"What, you mean going back to Last Rock and asking Arachne for help?" Teller asked.

"Oh, no, not  _ that _ elf," Vesk said. "Right, well, that should be all the hint you need from me. I really am sorry, but... well, we gods are limited in some ways. I genuinely  _ cannot _ help you any more than I already have."

"Can you give me money?" Teller asked. "Or maybe a book to read?"

"Oh, you want some token item as a concession?" Vesk asked. "Yeah, sure. Here." He reached into a pocket in his ridiculously poofy purple pantaloons, and finally fished out a leather belt pouch. "This here is a Bag of Holding. It'll stretch to accomodate all  _ sorts _ of objects."

"Could a person fit in there?" Teller asked, accepting the belt pouch.

"Yep, although they  _ will _ be basically time-frozen until you pull them back out. Don't keep someone in there for  _ too _ long, unless you  _ want _ to forget about them and then have them learn that they missed out on a whole year of real-time. That would be funny to watch, but only from a safe distance."

"Fair. What about... oh, a barrel?" Teller asked.

"Yep. As for the rest, figure it out on your own time. I've got places to go. Oh! Also, I would appreciate it if you kept that stuff about the Elder Gods to yourself. Everyone knows they exist, but they do  _ not _ know about Old Earth, and frankly we'd rather keep it that way. Let them develop culture in their own way, without being beholden to the old world, and all that."

"I'll obey the Prime Directive," Teller said. "Up to a point."

"Just get rid of the damn electric guitar. Let them think it was magic."

"Technically, it  _ was _ magic. But I see your point. Iunno how omniscient you are, but..."

"Nobody's figured it out yet. Prin and Weaver know how you made it, because you put it together in front of them, but neither of them is gonna do anything with that information. Now quit pulling me back into the conversation and  _ go _ , ya little twerp."

"You su-"

" ** _GO._ ** "

* * *

"Avei, huh?" Prin asked. "That's... hrm."

"Something you wanna tell us, Prin?" Teller asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, strumming his guitar, which had been disconnected from the amplifier. Now, it was remarkably quiet, the resonating body having been replaced with a solid plank of wood.

"Well..." She paused for a moment. "I can't help you get an audience with Avei," she said finally. " _ But _ , I have a cousin who can. His name is Rainwood, and last I heard, he was in Calderaas. I can introduce you two."

"You two have fun with that," Gravestone said, packing his bags back up. "I, for one, did exactly what Arachne asked of me, and I am now going to go back home to my nice, quiet library and catch up on my reading, far away from either of you."

"Feel free to take this the wrong way, Damian, but I sincerely hope I never see you again," Teller said. "I've met some pricks in my time, but you're the whole fucking cactus."

"Fuck you too, bud," Gravestone said with a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Teller played was Cliffs of Dover, by Eric Johnson.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aiRn3Zlw3Rw


	4. Chapter 4

"Ah, Calderaas, the Eternal City," Principia said as she and Teller stepped off the Caravan. "C'mon, let's go visit a friend of mine. She'll know where my cousin is."

"Actually, if you don't mind, I think the two of us need to have a long, private conversation," Teller said. "You're hiding something."

"We're  _ all _ hiding  _ so- _ "

"Principia Locke," Teller said wearily and without rancor.

"...Fine. But you're answering some of my questions, too."

"Fair's fair. You know where we can find someplace private to have this conversation?"

* * *

"Wards are up," Prin said. "You first." The two of them were ensconced in a hotel room, in a poorer region of town. According to Prin, cheap hotels were more secure than expensive ones, on account of hardly anyone in a cheap hotel having secrets worth prying into.

"Alright," Teller said, sitting up and setting his book aside. "Well. First, magic is... different, where I'm from. It was only thirty years old, and magicians were rare as hell. Only one in ten thousand or so. And because of that, and the rather martial nature of magic, pretty much every magician anyone'd ever heard of was either recruited as police, or doing their own very illegal thing for personal gain. My parents were the former; they had me on the assumption that maybe magic was hereditary. Got it in their heads to breed up an army of magician soldiers... and then Mom had some complications in the birthing process, and it was realized the next kid would kill her. So I was all they had.

"Well, they decided if they couldn't have quantity, they'd have quality. My childhood was hellish. For a light sampler... Well, for my seventh birthday, I was given a puppy, and a number of books on how to raise and train a dog. His name was Barktholomew James Corcoran."

Silence reigned, until... "...You're going to make me ask, aren't you?" Prin asked.

"For my eighth birthday, I was given a knife, and made to kill my own dog."

"I think I hate your parents," Prim said prinly.

"I killed them, when I was fifteen," Teller said. "After five-odd years as a child soldier, I added them to the mountain of corpses I stand on top of. Fights between magicians, where I'm from, get quite...  _ lethal _ . I haven't hit the triple digits, yet, but I'm still young." He sighed. "Well, when I killed them, I ran off, obviously. Hid out in a little seaside tourist trap of a town, and tried to retire. Year and a half later, I'm seventeen now, and... here I am."

"So, what'd you do for money while you were retired?" Prin asked.

"Taught music, took art commissions... Milking no small amount of money out of a rich idiot whose son had a thing for me. Year or so before I retired, I wrote a  _ very _ well-received textbook on magical theory, and earned myself an honorary doctorate. Not that I've ever gotten any use out of it, except gettin' people to call me Doctor Corcoran."

"...You wrote a textbook at fourteen?" Prin asked.

"I did not have a normal childhood," Teller said flatly. "Alright, well. That's my story. You next."

"Hang on, I got more questions," Prin said. "Why, exactly, are you so antsy to get back home?"

"Because, as I'm sure you've noticed after two days in my company, I am a  _ very _ friendly and outgoing person for a vicious murderer, and I left behind quite a lot of people I would like to see again. A girlfriend. Two cats. Two other girls who live in my house and eat my food and whose wellbeing I am responsible for. Y'know, the sorts of things you don't want to leave unattended. So, Princess. Let's start in on  _ you _ . Why are you here, with me, and what were you  _ really _ thinking about when you learned we had to go see Avei?"

"...I'm a thief," Prin said. "A  _ very good _ thief. And once upon a time, almost twenty years ago, I had to get myself pregnant for a con I was pulling. Well... I was terrified of the concept of being a mother. And once the con was over, the pregnancy was too far along to end it the easy way. So... I went to Arachne, and she took the baby off my hands. Sent her to an abbey in Viridill, to be raised by the Sisters of Avei.

"I tried very hard, for the next fifteen years, to put it out of my mind. Arachne will tell you any idiot with a working uterus can squeeze out a baby, but... that bond doesn't sever so easily. And so, a few years ago, when Trissiny- that's my daughter's name- was called as the new Hand of Avei... I realized that I would never stop hearing about her. So I gave up on pretending I'd never had a kid. But... well, the Abbess didn't take too kindly to me barging into the abbey, and threw me down the stairs. Knocked some sense back into me, it did."

"So, you're specifically unwelcome in the abbey in Viridill," Teller said. "That answers half of my questions. But why are you here with me, specifically?"

"Because you're on a fool's errand," Prin said with a helpless shrug. "And when you finally give up... You're going to go back to Last Rock, and attend the university there. And so is Trissiny." Prin shrugged again. "I was hoping maybe you could put in a good word for me."

Teller stared, then sighed.

"Well, I can't fault you for lack of bravery," Teller said. "To hear my life story and then confess to being a less than perfect mother... I'll see what I can do, Prin, but don't go expecting any miracles. And when you get a chance to talk to Trissiny face-to-face... Try laying all your cards on the table to begin with, alright? I've tolerated you this far because I'm used to a hell of a lot worse. If Triss has been holed up in a monastery her whole life, she ain't gonna have much taste for your kinda sass."

"You're asking a  _ lot _ of me here, Corky," Prin said.

"Don't call me Corky," Teller said flatly. "Now, Prin, you say you're a very good thief, correct?"

"I am, yes," Prin said. "Why, you just now realizing you sent the guy holding the pursestrings home without us?"

"Oh, no, Damian gave me enough money to pay for a Rail trip to the capital of Viridill. Vrin Shai, I think he said it was called?  _ But _ , it occurs to me that I may want to be a bit better equipped, in case this journey of ours stops being a cakewalk in a hurry."

"So, what do you need?"

"A weapon with a bit more stopping power than this piddly little butterfly knife," Teller said, whipping out and unfurling the knife in one smooth notion. "And perhaps a quick rundown on the state of the combative arts, these days."

"Well, there's cheap, mass-produced lightning wands that any idiot can use," Prin said. "There's battlestaves, which are bigger and badder and bulkier. There's also, for defenses, mainly arcane shielding charms. All of these can be bought pretty cheaply.  _ But _ , since you're traveling with a master thief... I reckon we don't have to settle for the cheaper end."

"Does that mean a heist, or that you've already got plenty of money?" Teller asked.

"I'm richer than god, and maybe Arachne," Prin said. "Mostly, it sits around- I don't do this for the money. I do it because it's what my god asks of me."

"...Your god."

"Eserion, the God of Thieves and Defiance," Prin said. "I'm a member of his Thieves' Guild; my Guild tag is Keys."

"...I have no idea how well we're going to get along," Teller said.

"Aw, c'mon," Prin said.

"Don't say it."

"We'll be-"

" _ Don't say it _ ."

"Thick-"

"I know where you sleep."

"-As-"

"I'll stab you."

"- _ Thieves _ ."

Teller lunged at her with the knife.

* * *

"So, the thing about enchanter wands, which you're apparently capable of using, is that they shoot a perfectly straight line of energy," Prin said. "Normal lightning-throwers will course-correct a little, and are easier to hit people with."

"So what's the benefit of enchanter wands?" Teller asked. The two of them were in a wand shop, perusing the wares.

"They're generally a lot better at going through shields, armor, and anything else you want to get rid of," Prin said. "They're also a lot lower-maintenance; lightning wands, you have to replace the shaft after a while, but there's enchanter wands from thousands of years ago that still work just fine."

"...Alright, enchanter wands it is," Teller said. "I have some rather well-earned paranoia about equipment failure. Leads me to stick to whatever's more  _ reliable _ , whether or not it's  _ better _ in other regards."

"Good call. I've heard good things about Heshenaad Arms, and their reliability, so..." Prin picked up one of the cards in front of the securely-locked display case. "We'll take two of these, please. And a pair of belt holsters."

After paying and receiving their new, holstered weapons(which both went onto Teller's belt, with Principia claiming she was already armed as much as she cared to be), they walked out of the shop, and started down the street.

"So, what's Heshenaad supposed to mean?" Teller asked.

"Calderaan cavalry terminology," Prin said. "Means the space behind a horse."

"So these wands're guaranteed to kick like a mule, huh?"

"That, and last forever, even if you're a Stalweiss warlord trapped in the Golden Sea with no resupply for a decade," Prin said. "Which, y'know. That's who  _ most _ people associate the name Heshenaad with."

"Funny. Where I'm from, there's an arms manufacturer called Colt, but they're just named after some guy called Samuel Colt. Wasn't no warlord or nothin', just good at makin' guns."

"Hold that thought, what the hell is  _ that? _ " Prin said, pointing. Teller followed her eyes to a street food vendor putting a bit of theatricality into his business with some simple dexterity tricks.

"I would  _ guess _ that's cotton candy. Sure looks like it, anyhow. Must be new here; try some, it's like biting into a cloud made of sugar."

"Those are the  _ best _ words I have ever heard you say. Give me a minute to meet my new love."

Prin walked up to the street food vendor, and tossed him a coin. He caught it deftly, and handed her two cones wrapped in pink and blue cotton candy.

Teller felt a twinge somewhere, and turned around, spotting a pretty young woman approaching him with light brown skin, black hair, and sharp features. "Is that Principia Locke?" the young woman asked.

"Ma'am, where  _ I'm _ from, it's good manners to introduce yourself before getting down to brass tacks," Teller said, internally wondering if he was about to get into a fight with the police. It always produced something of a headache, and that was back when he was one of the most dangerous people to walk the earth. These days, he was just some kid with a gun.

"Oh! Um. Sorry, I'm Merry. Merry Lang. Um... look, this elf shaman in the park gave me ten doubloons and told me to find Principia Locke, who he said was an elf woman with black hair, and bring her back to the park," the woman said.

"...Terribly sorry for the suspicion, ma'am," Teller said. "Yeah, that's Prin right there, stuffin' her gob with cotton candy like an overgrown child."

"That's kind of an elf thing in general," Merry said. "They don't have sugar back in the groves, so they don't get much candy. When they do..."

"We gorge ourselves," Prin said, approaching the pair, one of the sticks already barren of cotton candy. "Now, Merry, I have to ask- this elf shaman in the park. What color was his hair? Was he blonde, like most elves?"

"No, it was a lot like yours. Y'know.  _ Black. _ "

"Well! Teller, I do believe my cousin has found  _ us _ ."


	5. Chapter 5

"Hello, cousin," Prin said as the group approached an elven man with black hair tangled with twigs and leaves. "You look like shit."

"Oh, you know how it is, Prin," the elf said, shrugging. "Best way to make people look the other way and not pay much attention is to look like I'm sleeping in the park because of a lack of options. If I looked  _ respectable _ , well, then people might get to  _ respecting _ me, and  _ respecting _ me leads to me getting pulled into their webs of intrigue, and before I know it, the Sultana wants my head on a pike because I accidentally had a minor role in an attempted coup."

"You sound like you speak from experience, friend," Teller said.

"It's two hundred years old, but yes, I assure you, I have no shortage of  _ experience _ ," he said. "But, apparently I  _ do _ have a shortage of  _ manners _ . Name's Rainwood! Pleased to meet you. Being with Prin, I can only assume you're here to ask me for a favor."

"Name's Teller, and I suppose you've cut us to the quick." Teller tipped his hat, which he felt he should at some point return to Father Laws, after buying himself a better one. "I have business in Viridill, and Prin's led me to believe that you'd lend me some credibility, on account of some of that experience you mentioned."

"Is it  _ normal _ for adventurers to talk in circles?" Merry asked.

"It is when they're being listened to by people they don't know or trust," Teller said. "Kindly give us some privacy, Miss Lang?"

"Ah, one moment," Rainwood said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out five doubloons. "The rest of your fee, Miss Lang."

"Oh! Um, thanks."

"However, I am going to have to agree with Teller's request for privacy," Rainwood gently insisted. "This appears to be family business."

"Aw, c'mon!" Merry insisted. "I know I'm not the most experienced adventurer ever, but-"

"Experience isn't the main consideration, here," Teller said. "This isn't an adventure. This is a business trip that happens to involve an elf or two. Hell, I'm not even an adventurer."

"Then explain the wands."

"They were a gift," Teller said.

"What contribution do  _ you _ think you can make on an adventure, anyhow?" Prin asked. "Keeping someone's bedroll warm?"

"Wh-" Merry began indignantly.

"These two are too polite to say it themselves, so I'll say it for them," Prin continued. "Fuck off. You're not wanted here. Go get a real job."

Merry glared venomously at Prin, then stormed off.

"That was mean," Teller said.

"Yeah, well, some people need that kind of treatment to get rid of them," Prin said with a shrug. "So, Rainwood, you in?"

"I'll need some more detail," Rainwood said, "but provisionally... you've got my attention."

"I talked to Vesk about a problem that turned out to be partly his fault, and partly Avei's," Teller said. "He told me that Avei's gone over his head, so I have to take it up with her. I need you, a two-time companion of past Hands of Avei, to introduce me to the current Hand, and get me an audience with her."

"Ah. Hrm... Well, that could be tricky," Rainwood said. "But! I'd like to meet the new one myself, and I've never been one to back down from a challenge. I'm in."

"Oh thank god," Teller muttered. "I was worried I'd have to do some sorta test of valor to prove myself worthy of the War Goddess' attention. Bring back... I don't know, fucking... twelve bear asses and the foreskins of a hundred orcs?"

"Quite aside from  _ why _ on Naiya's green earth you would be collecting  _ foreskins _ of all things, there are no orcs left on this continent, and the Sisters of Avei have no sense of humor whatsoever about it."

"Alright, well, you can fill me in on every other rhetorical landmine I should avoid stepping on while we're on the Rails," Teller said. "Let's go."

"...What the hell is a landmine?"

* * *

"You're leaving already?" Teller asked.

"Yeah, well, I'm not wanted in Viridill, and I've been gone from Last Rock for two days already," Prin said. "I really should be getting back."

"Take care, Prin. Try not to piss anyone off  _ too _ bad."

"I make no promises. Bye!"

Prin walked off, leaving Rainwood and Teller to wait for their own Rail caravan.

"I'm surprised the two of you are on such friendly terms," Rainwood said.

"Eh. She's an obnoxious pain in the ass, sure, but I've dealt with worse. Besides, she's good for some decent banter. Reminds me of someone close to me, in fact."

"My condolences."

"What, did she set your dog on fire or something?" Teller asked.

"What? Oh, no no no, not at all. But, well... We're cousins, you see."

"I get that much, yeah."

"You have any cousins?"

"Every close blood relative of mine is dead."

"Ah."

"Yeah."

"Terribly sorry about that."

"Don't be. My family sucked."

Silence hung in the air.

"In what-"

"No."

Silence reigned some more, right up until the caravan pulled into the station, and they got on.

"Hey, Rainwood," Teller said as they got inside and sat down.

"Yes?" Rainwood asked.

"You know why I miss Prin right now?"

"Because she's prettier than I am?"

"Actually, I much prefer your looks to hers. No, the  _ real _ reason I miss her is that she's the one who was carrying the seatbelts, and this caravan doesn't have any."

"...oh no."

* * *

"It could've been a  _ lot _ worse," the Sister of Avei said, as she laid a gently-glowing hand over Teller's blackened eye. "At least your glasses didn't break."

"I swear with all the gods in alphabetical order as my witnesses, I will  _ never _ get back on those  _ goddamned _ caravans without a seatbelt and a full suit of well-padded armor," Teller grumbled.

"Now, now, the cargo belt snapping and flinging someone's suitcase across the aisle and into your eye is hardly a common occurrence," Rainwood said.

"I'm an uncommon man with uncommon experiences," Teller said. "As you have just witnessed firsthand."

"I dearly hope you aren't thinking yourself some sort of adventurer," the Sister said sternly. "If you try to go 'adventuring' in either Athan'Khar or the Deep Wild, you are unlikely to accomplish anything beyond getting shot by Border Patrols."

"No, no, nothing like that," Teller said. "I'm on something of a religious pilgrimage, in fact. Would you happen to know where we can rent a carriage?"

"There's a business calling itself The Stable, on the lowest tier of Vrin Shai," the Sister said. The three of them were in a small shaded alcove just outside the walls, where a number of clerics were on standby to treat the numerous injuries that occurred on the Rails. Vrin Shai, being the seat of Avenist worship, treated its high defensive walls as a religious sacrament, and adamantly refused to allow the Rail station to breach those walls, forcing the station to be built outside the city proper. "To the left of the entrance. If you get lost, just ask one of the Silver Legionnaires for directions."

"Thank you, Sister," Teller said, as she withdrew her hand from his eye. "Do you happen to take tips?"

"No. But, if you feel obligated to give your money to  _ someone _ , there's a donation box for the Sisterhood right outside."

"Ah, very well."

"At any rate, your eye is fully healed, now. I won't keep you any longer. Take care on your pilgrimage, boys."

"Will do," Rainwood chirped. "C'mon, Teller, let's get going."

* * *

"You know, I hadn't fully believed that you'd met Vesk until spending an hour in a carriage with you," Rainwood said. "Just how many instruments do you  _ have _ in that bag?"

"Yes," Teller said with a smug grin. "This here bag was a gift from Vesk. I thought it was weird that he was giving me a mass-produced bag that I could buy from pretty much any enchanter's shop, since he's the God of Story and Song, but then I actually started looking around in it, and I found a veritable orchestra's worth of instruments in here. Including... hang on." Teller opened the bag, putting away his harmonica, and shoved his arm inside, up to the elbow. "Listen closely."

"I'm an elf. These ears aren't just for show, y'kn-" Rainwood paused, listening to the sound emanating from the bag. "Did Vesk put a fucking  _ piano _ in there?"

"He put an entire goddamn full-sized upright piano in there," Teller said, nodding.

"How did he get it to  _ fit? _ "

"Taking it slow, and three bottles of lubricant," Teller said solemnly. "Anyhow, is that the Abbey up there?"

"It is indeed," Rainwood said. "We're here."


	6. Chapter 6

Rainwood pulled over off the side of the road, right beside the stone staircase leading up to the Abbey, built atop one of the foothills of the tail-end of the Wyrnrange. A quintet of Silver Legionnaires stood guard at the bottom, and turned to face the boys as they got out of the carriage.

"Rainwood. Teller," one of the Legionnaires, the one with tabs on her shoulders, said. "My name is Colonel Standing. We've been expecting you. Sergeant Cox will take care of your carriage. Follow me, please."

Rainwood tossed the control rune- what looked to Teller like a key fob owned by a DIY enthusiast who was also a fan of Fullmetal Alchemist- to what was apparently the sergeant, and then followed after the Colonel, Teller following slightly behind.

"Gotta say, Colonel, it's a little  _ ominous _ that I'm expected," Teller said. "Mostly because... well, honestly, it just feels too easy. Shouldn't getting an audience with the War Goddess take some test of valor or whatever?"

"I'm afraid I can't comment on that," Colonel Standing said. "I'm not privy to all the details."

"Do you at least know  _ when _ Avei told y'all to expect me?"

"Two days ago."

"That's discouraging."

"Any ideas  _ why _ Avei was expecting you?"

"Well, I was  _ going _ to say I spoke to Vesk about some personal business, and he told me to take it up with Avei.  _ But _ , that wasn't two days ago. That was... like, three hours ago. I think. I don't own a pocketwatch. It was before noon in Tiraas, which is... meh. Fiddly details. I'm sure it'll start making sense inside."

* * *

"When I said test of valor, I was  _ joking _ ," Teller said, as a Legionnaire handed him a quarterstaff with thick padding on the ends that had been referred to as a pugil stick. He stood across the courtyard from a white-robed Sister of Avei who'd been introduced as Bishop Basra Syrinx.

"Avei was very clear on this," Trissiny Avelea, the Hand of Avei, said from the sidelines, holding a bell and a mallet. Teller could very easily see how she was a half-elf; she was, even in her silvered full-plate armor, a slender, no,  _ lanky _ slip of a girl, with ears that were ever so slightly longer than normal. "You will duel Her Grace the Bishop, Basra Syrinx, before Avei grants you audience. When I strike this bell, you will begin."

"Hang on, why is the  _ Bishop _ the one handling this?" Teller asked. "Unless I've been living under a rock and this, specifically, is her entire job or something."

"It's because I'm the best duelist in the Sisterhood who doesn't have arthritis," Basra said. "General, I'm ready." Trissiny nodded at that, and Teller sighed, sliding into a ready stance.

Soon, the bell rang, and Basra lunged at Teller, her blade dancing in her hand as he backed up, deftly parrying each strike with the tip of the staff. She pressed his left side, and began to, essentially, chase him in a circle. Teller kept on the defensive for two full rotations, letting Basra think he was an untrained idiot, right until they were positioned with the high midday sun behind his back, and shining in Basra's face, at which point he suddenly flipped to pressing the attack, alternating between her left and right sides to keep her from turning around and getting the sun out of her face.

Basra grinned viciously as she realized what he was doing, and kept up her blade's rapid dance, this time on the defense. Teller knew, intellectually, that with the advantage of reach and leverage, he'd  _ eventually _ win... but he wasn't really in the mood to fence too much.

He struck low, at Basra's knees, and let her deflect the tip into the grass of the courtyard, as he levered himself up on the staff. Her eyes went wide as Teller rose into the air, and tried in vain to bring her sword up to block.

Teller landed on both feet. Basra landed on her side, rolling over to spit out blood and a few shards of tooth.

"...Ah, that was probably a bad idea," Teller said, breaking the silence as he realized he'd just kicked a Bishop in the teeth.

" _ Probably, _ " Trissiny repeated, incredulously, as Rainwood rushed forward from the sidelines to tend to Basra. "That was... What possessed you to  _ do _ such a-"

"Hold," a new voice said as a woman in Silver Legionnaire armor that was  _ actually _ silver(confusingly, every other Silver Legionnaire wore bronze-plated armor) stepped through the crowd. Everyone present, save for Teller, who didn't recognize her, and Basra, who was on the ground and incoherent, held their breath. "He has passed this trial, and done no harm I cannot correct. Rainwood, if you would please step back?"

Rainwood stood, nodding, and backed up as Avei, Goddess of War, Women, and Justice strode forth, the tip of her spear glowing golden as she gently tapped the side of Basra's head with it. Basra fell still, her breathing evening out, and Avei lifted her spear, turning to face a pair of Legionnaires on the sidelines, who had a stretcher with them.

"Privates Avelea and Khatri, please take the Bishop to the infirmary. She is asleep, and will suffer no permanent damage; still, I fear I may have missed a spot." The Legionnaires lept to obey, and Avei turned to face Teller. "Trissiny. Teller. Please come with me; we have much to discuss in private."

* * *

"I truly am sorry," Avei said. "However, I cannot properly set this right."

"What's  _ that _ supposed to mean?" Teller asked, folding his arms, and ignoring Trissiny, who seemed shocked at the notion of anyone backtalking Avei.

"The technique of making those gates died with the Elder Gods," Avei said. "Of the two who survive, neither of them are coherent, particularly trustworthy,  _ or _ the one who made the gates in the first place. There simply  _ is not _ any practical way to send you home. I am sorry, but... Whatever drives you to return home, abandon it. You will make no further progress in this quest."

"What, you've got the power to call yourself a God and you can't even be bothered rebuilding something that's been around for thousands of years?" Teller asked.

"The very  _ nature _ of divinity has changed, since the days of the Elder Gods," Avei said. "Many things from their era are impossible to recreate, and for good reason; very few artifacts of their time are even remotely safe to be near. And then... there is another problem."

"Of course there is," Teller said flatly.

"I am a soldier. Vesk is a bard. Both of us owe you greatly, but neither of us is equipped to help you any. Salyrene- the Goddess of Magic-  _ might _ be able to help, but she is my  _ acquaintance _ , not my subordinate, and she has been sulking and withdrawn for a full century, seeing no petitioners whatsoever. I cannot help you. She  _ will not _ help you, and on top of that probably  _ also _ cannot help you."

"Lord... And I suppose you're about to tell me that time travel or simply  _ looking backward in time _ to recreate the gate is  _ also _ out of the question?"

"It is, yes," Avei said, nodding. "Vemnesthis would never stand for time travel; his entire purpose, these past eight thousand years, has been to prevent such a thing for any purpose."

"But-"

"Teller," she said quietly. "You can't go home."

"...That's it, then?" Teller whispered. "This isn't... that's..."

Avei sighed, as Teller composed himself.

"Go back to Last Rock," Avei said gently. "Make a new life there. I put you there for a reason."

Teller turned, and trudged out of the room.

* * *

"Didn't care for what you heard, did you?" Abbess Narnasia said as she approached Teller from behind.

"I'll never see my home again," he said quietly. He'd set himself up in a small alcove in the abbey's crypts, with five candles burning in front of him. "My cats... my sisters... my girlfriend... I was planning on proposing, you know? But... now I'll never see her again."

Narnasia sighed quietly. "May I?"

"Go ahead."

She sat down beside him, carefully easing herself down. Her hair had gone steely gray, and her iron backbone had gone rusty; she negotiated with her cane as she sat down, finally setting it aside on the floor beside them. With slow, careful motions, she withdrew a sterling silver flask from within her robe, passing it to Teller. "Thank you for kicking Bishop Syrinx in the teeth. If anything, I wish you'd kicked her harder. She really is the worst sort of woman."

"Nope," Teller said, unscrewing the flask. "Not letting you drag me into internal Avenist politicking. You want her dead, find some other adventurer to do it." He took a long pull from the flask, before passing it back to Narnasia.

"Not quite what I meant, but point taken," Narnasia said, before taking her own sip from the flask. Silence reigned in the crypt, only the tiny hiss of burning candles, as the two shared a flask of applejack. Finally, Narnasia broke the silence. "My daughter was the last Hand of Avei," Narnasia said quietly. "None of them ever die in bed. My dear Jasmine... there wasn't enough of her left to bury. And now Avei's gone and taken another of my daughters. Oh, I didn't give birth to Trissy, but I raised her from the cradle, and loved her with all my heart, and now..."

"Fuck Avei," Teller said.

"Fuck Avei," Narnasia agreed. "But... we soldier on. Because in the end, that's all we know how to do."

"Oh, don't give me  _ that _ ," Teller said, scowling. " _ You _ may not, but that's because  _ you chose this _ . You  _ chose _ to join the Silver Legions, you  _ chose _ to remain a Sister of Avei when you retired,  _ you chose to raise more children, _ knowing full well that at least one of them would go off and get herself killed in battle.  _ I never chose this _ . I never chose  _ any _ of this." He sighed, closing his eyes. "And I sure as hell am  _ not _ choosing  _ Last Fucking Rock _ as my new life. If it's a school run by an ancient archmage whose typical student body includes a  _ fucking paladin _ , I want nothing to do with it. I am going to go make a new life for myself somewhere  _ other _ than Last Rock- a life where I don't do violent things to anyone, and nobody tries to do violent things to me. And  _ no force on this planet _ will be able to gainsay that."

He stood up, and swept a hand over the candles, extinguishing them all.

"Now, I understand this may be an odd question to ask of  _ you _ of all people," Teller said, helping Narnasia up off the floor. "But would you happen to know where I can find the nearest Temple of Omnu?"


	7. Chapter 7

"While I _ do _ appreciate that the math being so simple is part of what enabled us to construct and fly this airship so quickly, I must confess, I would have _ really _ appreciated having something substantial to occupy myself with for the three whole days we're being obligated to spend out here in the Sand Sea," Herschel complained from the relative comfort of a shady tent, holding four cards in his hand. He was a pale, blonde slip of a boy, barely out of his teens, and wearing a pair of square-lensed glasses, the only thing that kept people from mistaking him for a half-elf. Given the general disdain Imperial society at large held the Stalweiss in, Herschel wasn't sure if not being mistaken for a half-breed was an improvement.

"Bring a few books, he said," Isabelle groused, holding four cards of her own. "Thank the goddess you had the sense to bring a deck of cards, too." She was the light brown of the Tira Valley people, with a build that would be called slender were she a foot or so shorter, but on her tall frame was better described as gangly. Her black hair was frizzy and unkempt, pulled back in perhaps the most inept ponytail anyone had ever laid eyes upon, and visibly dotted with the specks of sand that inevitably got into every conceivable crevice of one's being whenever one visited a place with any amount of sand whatsoever. Herschel also had sand in his hair, but it wasn't so easy to see- it blended in with his hair too well.

"And the travel chess set," Herschel added. "And the latest reconstruction of the Royal Game of Ocklund."

"What prompted you to bring all these games, by the by?" Isabelle asked. "Is it some Emerald College tradition that we in the Sapphire College have remained blissfully unaware of? Perhaps part of getting in touch with your feelings?"

"I grew up on the frontier, in Port Nonsense," Herschel said, voice as dry as the desert. "I assure you, I am _ well _ acquainted with long stretches of boredom. And the art of inventing new games because we've grown bored with the ones present."

"Ah, right. Forgot you were a bumpkin- you pretend so convincingly otherwise."

"You are an awful woman and I hate you," he said flatly, before pushing three tokens into the middle of the table. They were double-sided- one red, one black. "I cannot _ wait _ to get back to the Collegium. Not that you aren't a good friend, but you're a much _ better _ friend when we haven't been sitting alone in the desert for three days."

"You're just mad because you're losing the meta-game," Isabelle said, glancing at the incomplete game of tic-tac-toe on a nearby sheet of paper. "Anyhow. Calling." She pushed three tokens of her own into the center of the table. "...I hope Teller is okay."

* * *

Teller Corcoran sat naked and motionless atop a sand dune, his eyes closed. Three days and three nights of constant meditation had given him plenty of time to hone his technique. It wasn't about 'not having thoughts,' necessarily- rather, it was about simply letting the thoughts happen, and not focusing too hard on them, letting them drift on by like clouds in the sky.

Speaking of clouds, there seemed to be a few gathering in the sky, whenever Teller opened his eyes- which wasn't often, as the pain brought by the sunlight would spike, driving nails of suffering into his retinas. They weren't there three days ago, when the expedition first arrived, and seemed to be slowly congregating around him.

He let the thought cloud go, and enjoyed a few moments of silence before the next one drifted up.

He'd led a very violent life, up until fairly recently. Quite apart from all the death he'd _ seen _, there were nearly seventy corpses that he was directly, personally responsible for. And yet, there was also the fact that he'd managed, for several months at a time, to live a calm, peaceful life. At the time, he'd thought of it as being like becoming a whole different person.

Now, though, he thought that was bullshit. He was the same person the whole time, just doing different things. The core motivations weren't even that different.

What he desired most was peace. And those times when he'd sallied forth to introduce steel or lead to someone's inner workings, he'd _ still _ done it in the name of peace, just, with the understanding that peace had to be fought for, sometimes quite violently.

Of course, his idea of what peace was happened to be informed quite a lot by his ideas of justice- in his mind, there was no peace without justice, and anything that claimed otherwise wasn't actually _ peace _, just a barely-sustainable status quo. There was, after all, a reason why he hadn't known true peace until after his parents' deaths.

He frowned, the thought sticking with him. That Avei and Omnu were separate gods with separate portfolios bugged him. There was no peace without justice, and yet the separation of those aspects seemed to communicate the opposite message. But then, at the same time, here he was, out in the desert, trying to attune to Omnu rather than going back to Vrin Shai and demanding reparations from Avei.

The ideas were, admittedly, at least _ somewhat _ separate, if still intertwined. Peace was an end. Justice was the means.

A cloud drifted overhead, shading Teller. He opened his eyes, looking up at the sky. It had been three days and three nights. The sun was, itself, directly overhead; he could actually see it quite clearly through the thin, wispy excuse for a cloud. And yet he felt cooler, less 'burning to a crisp.' Strange, especially considering the way the cloud began to actually _ part _ around the sun, forming a pinhole through which he could see the sun clearly.

See the sun. _ Clearly. _

"I suppose it worked," Teller said, looking up at the sun with his ordinarily _ very _ poor eyesight that was _ very _ sensitive to light. The pain of his burned and burning skin had vanished, and he was fairly certain of why. "I'm one of your priests now, I presume?" A warm glow inside himself answered. "...wow, I do _ not _ care for _ that _ shit one _ bit _. Well, I'm at least done with the ritual?" The glow pulsed, tinged with affirmation. "And I presume divine healing will fix up my skin before I get cancer?"

A ray of almost solid golden light shone down through the clouds, washing over him for a few seconds. When it faded, he found himself back to his usual albino pale.

"Thanks," he said. "Alright, now to collect Herschel and Isabella and get out of this godforsaken desert. _ Yes _, I'm aware of the irony." He glared at the sun at that, and stood up, brushing sand off himself and groaning lightly.

He made it three feet before Arachne Tellwyrn suddenly appeared in front of him, arms folded.

"Young man, what do you th-" She paused, registering the fact he was still naked. "Omnu's balls, put on some pants, man!"

"I just spent three days straight frying like an egg in the desert sun," Teller said, folding his arms as she turned around, covering her eyes. "You can handle a little full-frontal."

"Contrary to what those horny idiots who write elf porn think, elves do, in fact, possess a nudity taboo," Arachne said. "In addition, you are seventeen years old. We can continue this discussion when you're wearing pants."

* * *

After Teller retrieved his clothing from the tent, enduring no small amount of embarrassed spluttering from Herschel and an insincere, overcompensating catcall from a flushing Isabella, the four mages sat down around the table in the tent for a talk.

"Becoming a priest of Omnu takes four full years," Teller explained. "Omnists practice agriculture, as I'm sure you're well aware, and they practice what's called four-field crop rotation, which means that it takes four years, in the same patch of farmland, to cover a full rotation. That long, and no less, is the time it takes to become an ordained priest of Omnu... _ if _ you're some kind of pansy. But I fear neither God nor death, so I took a shortcut, and came out here to perform a ritual that's pretty painful, _ but _ which supposedly is a shortcut into Omnu's priesthood."

"And how, exactly, did you find out about the Rite of Burning?" Arachne asked.

"Wrote a letter to Gravestone, asked him to look something up for me," Teller said with a shrug. "He seems to like me well enough. As much as he likes anyone, at any rate. He wrote back, and I then took a trip to the local Collegium of Salyrene, in hopes of convincing a wizard to teleport me out here, and then back three days later. Then I met these two, decided I liked them better, and taught them how to make and fly a hot air balloon. Herschel here provides the actual movement, with a flame elemental and a wind elemental, and Isabella provides navigational data via arcane scrying."

"Writing a treatise on hot air balloons took all of a day," Herschel added. "Which left us with two more days to kill, waiting in this tent for the ritual."

"We invented a new game," Isabella added. "We play five hands of poker with checkers as chips, then play a round of checkers with the resulting number of pieces, and the winner gets to make a single move on a tic-tac-toe board."

"...You know, Doctor Corcoran, I have the sneaking suspicion that I should relax my admission standards by a year, just to keep you from getting up to any _ more _ ridiculous shenanigans," Arachne said.

"Oh, please, there's barely been _ one _ shenanigan at all," Teller said dismissively. "Unless you count the time I publicly kicked the Avenist Bishop in the head."

"Alright, I get it, you're aware you do interesting things and enjoy the reaction it gets from people," Arachne said, rolling her eyes. "My turn. My friend in Sifan got back to me about your situation, and not only is she reasonably confident she has a solution, she _ also _ would like _ very _ much to meet you."

Teller stared blankly.

"What, mad that I outdid whatever scheme you were working on?" Arachne asked, grinning.

"Avei told me the portals were all destroyed," Teller said quietly. "I believed her. I'd managed to come to accept that, out in the desert. And now... You had best not be getting my hopes up, Arachne."

"I'm not making any promises," she said. "_ But _ , in my personal opinion, this is a lead well worth following up on. If only to get the Kitsune off your back; you do _ not _ want any of them to get it into her head to hunt you down."

"...the Kitsune," Teller said flatly.

"Oh! I've heard of those!" Herschel said.

"And I've _ met _ them, so I'll do the explaining," Arachne said. "They're daughters of Naiya who predate the Elder Wars; each one of them is an immortal demigoddess, and as a collective, they rule Sifan with an iron fist. You're an explicitly invited guest, and also under my protection, but if you do something so idiotic as to _ kick one of them in the head _, I will happily stand back while the rest of them eviscerate you."

"Well, I suppose it's my own fault for mentioning that to you," Teller said. "I assure you, I'm perfectly capable of behaving myself around the things that are capable of killing me. After all, I didn't start yelling at you until _ after _ you threw me out of the University." He turned to glance at Herschel and Isabella. "Thank you two for watching over me while I undertook the ritual. Will you need any help getting back home?"

"So long as you don't take the airship with you, no," Isabella said.

"It was nice to meet you, Doctor, although I can't honestly say these past few days in the desert were _ enjoyable _," Herschel said.

"Oh, you think _ you've _ got a bad case of sandy ass?" Teller said. "I sat on a sand dune naked for three days, Herschel. I will be shitting rocks for the next _ week _."

"On that oh-so-pleasant note, we'll be leaving now," Arachne said. With barely so much as a puff of displaced air, the two of them disappeared, leaving Isabella and Herschel alone.

"Well, on the plus side, _ now _ we aren't stuck in the desert anymore," Isabella said. "We're just stuck in a basket with each other, leaving us with very little room to do anything."

Herschel began to groan loudly.


	8. Chapter 8

Teller and Arachne appeared at an empty table in a harborside cafe, a pot of hot tea and two teacups before them. Arachne's was already full, and she took a slow, measured sip.

"We," Arachne began in Sifanese, setting her cup down, "are in the port city of Kiyosan. This is where we'll be meeting my friend, Ekoi Kaisa, who is one of the Kitsune."

"You mean  _ this cafe specifically _ is where we'll meet her?" Teller asked, in the same tongue. Arachne was surprised he knew it, but not very. "Or do you mean Kiyosan, in general, is where we'll meet her, and you parked us at this cafe because you wanted tea? And, I suppose, to give me a good look at Kiyosan?"

It was, after all, a  _ very _ good look. The city was beautiful, even in the fairly utilitarian harbor- the ships contributed in no small part, with their gracefully curving hulls, and beautifully painted sails that were strung up in a way that resembled nothing so much as the fins of a fish, or the wings of a dragon. The buildings were all roofed in the traditional Sifanese style, with pyrimidal roofs that gracefully upturned at the corners, and white walls supported by black-laquered square wooden beams.

It was all hauntingly familiar to him; that a city called Kiyosan looked like 17th century Tokyo felt like, perhaps, the beginnings of an amateur Dungeon Master's campaign set in a place called Rokugan where you couldn't swing a Katana without hitting a Shinobi or a Samurai.

A monk with a basket on his head walked by, playing a shakuhachi. Teller grimaced lightly.

"Not quite," Arachne said. "She specified she'd meet us at the harbor, and... well, here we are, at the harbor. Might as well have some tea while we wait."

"Ah, I see, I see," Teller said, nodding. He grabbed the teapot, and poured himself a small measure of what turned out to be green tea. He didn't much care for the stuff- for which more than one acquaintance had accused him of 'not really being Japanese'- but despite Omnu's grace, he was still rather thirsty after all that time in the desert. "So, out of curiosity, where do the Kitsune  _ usually _ reside?"

"Thirty miles north, in the Twilight Forest," Arachne said. "It's a powerfully magical place, not unlike the Golden Sea- it's nearly impossible to navigate, except with the blessing of the Kitsune, who maintain its status."

"Ah, lovel-"

As Teller picked up his teacup, raising it to his lips, a red fox lept over the table, snatching the teacup from his hand and darting away with it.

"...Well alright then," Teller said.

"Kaisa, this is beneath you," Arachne said as the fox turned to look over it's shoulder at Teller, the teacup miraculously  _ not _ smashed to pieces, and the tea somehow not spilled all over everything.

"Ah, is this your friend?" Teller asked, watching the fox. "She's certainly... playful. Reminds me of my sister. Excuse me, but may I please have that back? I'm very thirsty."

The fox chattered around the porcelain in its mouth, wagging its tail and wiggling its shoulders. Then it lept back onto the table, gently setting Teller's cup down on the table, and curled up to the side.

"Thank you, friend," he said, picking up the teacup and draining it. "...Wow, that's actually really good tea." The fox chattered some more, and he idly rested his left hand on its head, scratching behind the ears. "So, are you certain this is actually Ekoi Kaisa and not, say, a miscellaneous wild fox that has inexplicably decided to let me pet it? I'd rather not risk getting fleas or rabies."

"That's her," Arachne said. "She's  _ oozing _ fairy magic. You probably can't sense it- you're a priest, not a wizard or witch. Don't  _ use _ any divine magic, either- Kaisa's too strong to be hurt by it, but she's not going to care for it, either."

"...does divine magic hurt fairies?" Teller asked.

"You haven't learned your Circles yet," Arachne muttered. "Well, the short version is, Divine beats Fae beats Infernal beats Arcane beats Divine. The presence of magic from any particular school of magic is inherently unhealthy to magic of the school it naturally trumps; like I said, you won't be able to do much more than irritate Kaisa, but  _ also _ like I said, I will not save you from the consequences of irritating our host."

"Alright, well, no divine magic," Teller said. "So, Ekoi-san, how much longer do I have to keep scratching your ears?"

The fox made a chattering noise that sounded almost like a contemplative hum, before springing to her feet, sprinting in a circle around the table, and then snatching Arachne's glasses right off her nose before bolting off.

"You little twat I'm going to kill you!" Arachne roared, springing to her feet and chasing after her.

* * *

In the streets of Kiyosan, a fox running through the streets was given a wide, respectful berth- everyone knew what the Kitsune were, and what forms they preferred, and considered the possibility that it was just a wild animal that had gotten into the heart of the city to be slim enough to risk letting a fox run wild, doing whatever it pleased.

Of course, every few hundred years or so, it  _ was _ in fact just a wild animal running around, and the Kitsune thought it was hilarous every time.

Arachne chased, well,  _ doggedly _ after the fox, and Teller took up the rear behind Arachne, smiling pleasantly and waving at the startled people as the procession passed them by.

"Kaisa, you  _ brat _ , I'm going to bend you over my knee and spank you like the petulant child you are!" Arachne screamed, entirely lacking Teller's good humor.

"What if it's a different Kitsune, and she's mad you don't recognize her?" Teller called out.

" _ You shut the goddamn hell up! _ "

The fox hung a right, darting into a shrine, under a miko's skirts and between her legs, and continued running. Arachne angrily shoved the miko aside, knocking her to the ground, and Teller stopped to help the poor woman up before following after Arachne to make sure she didn't ruin anyone else's day.

In the courtyard of the shrine, a beautiful woman in a fancy kimono sat at a low table, and as the fox hopped into her lap, Arachne and Teller realized the beautiful woman just so happened to have triangular ears sticking out through her shining black hair, and a bushy tail poking through the back of her kimono, swishing around playfully.

" _ Akane _ ," Arachne spat balefully. Teller burst out laughing, falling to the ground, and Arachne whipped around to glare at him.

"Oh my- it's- it really  _ was _ just a fox!" Teller cried hysterically, slowly pushing himself up off the ground. "It oozed fairy magic because  _ she was controlling it! _ I was  _ right! _ "

"Well I'm glad  _ someone _ thinks this is funny," Arachne said bitterly. "Now, my glasses, please?"

"Aw, does someone not appreciate my little joke?" Akane asked, smirking. "At least Teller-kun appreciates it... a little  _ too _ much, though. You're heir to a culture with millenia of history, young man, and I expect you to act li-"

"You shut your goddamn mouth, you fucking overgrown catgirl," Teller said, suddenly calm. "I am older than  _ life on this planet _ , and I will not be lectured on decorum by a  _ petulant whelp _ who thinks  _ this _ disrespect is  _ any _ way to treat an  _ invited guest _ . You make me ashamed to speak the same  _ language _ as you."

Akane recoiled as if he'd punched her between the eyes, blinking rapidly and shaking her head as if to clear it.

"You give Arachne her glasses back  _ this instant _ , young lady," Teller continued, folding his arms and stepping forward. Arachne, now behind him, covered her mouth with her sleeve-covered fist, trying to hide her giggling. "This sort of behavior is  _ beneath _ you, and it is  _ high _ time you started acting your age."

"I- that- but-" Akane stammered out, as he started to loom over her.

"We will talk about this  _ later _ ," Teller said flatly, snatching the glasses away from the fox. "Go to your room."

And suddenly, without any fanfare, Akane was gone, the fox in her lap now on the ground, looking mightily confused, before bolting away from Teller.

Arachne started full-on cackling, somehow remaining composed enough to catch her glasses on the bridge of her nose when Teller tossed them to her.

"I am  _ so _ sorry for my sister's behavior," another Kitsune said, appearing without warning at the edge of the courtyard, suddenly holding the struggling wild fox in her arms. "My name is Ekoi Kaisa- welcome to Kiyosan, Takeuchi-san."

"Takeu- his name isn't  _ that _ unpronounceable in Sifanese," Arachne said. "Akane managed it just fine."

"Takeuchi Kenji," Teller said. "That was the name of my grandfather. I took it as my own when I was in hiding for a year. Well, Ekoi-san, you've clearly heard of me before. Supposedly my story was one of your mother's favorites in her youth?"

"Oh, it goes beyond that," Kaisa said, approaching calmly. "I actually  _ met _ the woman who wrote your story. She was a cranky old woman by the time the Infinite Order worked out practical immortality, and lived in a little hole in the ground up near the north pole, receiving no visitors besides myself and the occasional sister I dragged with me. Oh, how I miss her. She made the  _ best _ key lime pie... Well, anyhow."

"Hang on, where the hell was she getting limes from if she lived in the arctic?" Teller asked.

"I brought them to her, and we sat around chattering while she made the pie," Kaisa explained. "Every time I brought her limes, she called me a lemon-stealing whore. It took a thousand years for her to explain it to me."

"...I don't get it either," Teller said bluntly.

"Something to look up when you return home," Kaisa said, shrugging lightly. "I thank you for indulging the ramblings of  _ another _ old woman. Now, onto your business. I've heard of Avei's declaration that there are no more gates, and no means to recreate them. This is untrue, in the technical sense as well- one happens to remain, although it is beneath the seafloor, and goes to a land  _ far _ more foreign to your own.  _ However _ , back on the Tiraan continent, there is a much more... shall we say,  _ general purpose _ portal, which can be directed to take you home. Tell me... have you ever heard of the Golden Sea?"

"A few times," Teller said. "Once in the context of a warlord named Heshenaad, once as a navigational weirdness that was deemed sufficiently risky that, even in a hot air balloon out of the range of anything that doesn't fly, we decided to fly around it."

"Hot air b- ah, pardon me. Nostalgia. Right, well. It is a vastly dimensionally unstable piece of land in the middle of the continent.  _ However _ , it does in fact have a center that can be reliably navigated  _ towards _ and  _ away from _ . And at the very center of the Golden Sea, you will find this portal, operated by an artificial intelligence known as Avatar Zero Nine." Kaisa flicked her right hand, producing from nothingness a red umbrella in the Sifanese style, and gingerly offered it to Teller. "Ordinarily, one cannot reach the center of the Golden Sea without having been there before, or without traveling with someone  _ else _ who's been there. This umbrella, however, will allow you to reach it."

"A  _ red umbrella _ ," Teller said quietly.

"Can someone let me in on the joke, please?" Arachne asked, folding her arms.

"I owned a distinctive red umbrella back home," Teller said with a shrug. "I did some... rather unusual things with it. I'm sure Kaisa will tell you all about it, later. But, Kaisa...  _ why _ make that allusion?"

"Well, it may or may not be a potent fae talisman that  _ also _ gives you all of your old power back," Kaisa said, smirking. "What, did you think I was going to make you  _ walk _ there?"

"...What'll happen to all this magic I'm carrying when I get back home?"

"It'll stop working. This umbrella of yours will remain a normal umbrella." Kaisa's smirk faded. "The wands, however, will explode. As will the bag of holding. Take those off before you step through the portal."

"...Thank you," Teller said, finally. "For everything."

"Go in peace, friend." She wiggled the umbrella a bit, and at last, he finally took it.


	9. Chapter 9

"Oooooh, baby, how I've missed you," Teller murmured quietly, staring at the umbrella with his suddenly-expanded senses.

"Wind, fire... and  _ time _ ," Kaisa said, looking at Arachne. "Those were his old powers."

"Kaisa," Arachne said warningly. "If you get him in trouble with Vemnesthis..."

"He can only see five seconds into the future," Kaisa said dismissively. "Vemnesthis will tolerate that much. Besides, it's what he does with breeze and blaze that's  _ far _ more interesting. Takeuchi-san, the umbrella will guide you gently back to the Golden Sea. And, in the event of emergency, back  _ out _ of the sea, to Last Rock specifically. You can handle things from here, I trust?"

"Of course, of course," Teller said. He raised the umbrella like a sword before a cavalry charge, and the wind picked up, unfurling the umbrella before lifting him bodily upward like an albino Mary Poppins. "Kaisa, Arachne, thank you for your help. Ask the Hand of Avei about kicking the bishop in the face when you meet her; it's a great story. With luck, I'll never see you two again."

He drifted up to what he deemed a safe distance, mounted the umbrella like a witch's broomstick, and suddenly a roaring gout of flame propelled him along like a rocket.

"...So  _ that's _ what you meant by what he does with wind and flame," Arachne murmured. "Well. Kaisa, I'm already here. How about we sit down and you explain to me all the inexplicable horseshit that surrounds that idiot?"

"I'd  _ love _ to."

* * *

Teller had adjusted, once he was over the open ocean, to hold the umbrella out in front of him, allowing his flame to push on the inside and present the more aerodynamic outside to the wind. He could, of course, simply construct an aerodynamic teardrop shell of still air around himself and the umbrella- and he did exactly that, beforehand- but doing things this way was a lot easier and a bit faster, which was an important consideration on flights over the ocean.

After some consideration, he decided to climb up above the cloud layer, to keep from panicking the yokels below who might get bent out of shape if a bright flaming  _ thing _ streaked straight across the sky overhead. This way, he was easier to dismiss as a comet.

"Thank god there's no air traffic in this world," Teller muttered. "Just zeppeli- oh. Zeppelins. Not blimps,  _ zeppelins _ . Those are filled with oh-so-flammable hydrogen."

In a hypothetical timeline(one of the nicest features of his future sight), he killed the flame and checked his surroundings carefully. No zeppelins. He'd have to keep doing that, periodically, if he wanted to avoid Hindenburging anyone.

* * *

Teller winced as his future sight predicted a catastrophic birdstrike, and killed the flame immediately, starting to drop and roll out of the way. Once he laid eyes on the bird, though, he realized exactly why the bird wasn't able to avoid impact- it was specifically  _ trying _ to collide with him, likely in an attempt to kill him and eat him.

No wonder Herschel and Isabella had wanted to avoid the Golden Sea.

Teller scowled at the bird as he drifted through the air at slightly sub-sonic speeds, waiting for the right time.

Just as the bird made its final approach, Teller conjured a great burst of brilliant white flames in the shape of a thirty-foot phoenix, and wiggled the air around it to produce an unnatural, piercing cry. The bird decided it wasn't going to mess with  _ this _ , and veered off, starting to look for something easier to eat.

Teller turned the jets back on, and kept flying. He was making good time; the sun was low in the sky now, but considering Sifan was somewhere on the order of five or so thousand miles that-a-way, only taking seven hours or so to get back to the middle of the continent was fairly impressive.

He began to slow down, feeling that the fabled Center of the Golden Sea was close, and started a slow, gentle dive. With more than a few adjustments and some precognitive cheating, he let himself drift down placidly onto the ground, the umbrella held aloft above his head. A quick survey found Teller standing on a broad, circular stone platform, with a ring of standing stones around the outside and a second ring on the inside, around a large central pit that held a brilliantly-glowing white light of some sort.

The whole thing was grand in scale, he'd give it that; if he still had the hot air balloon, he could peel the actual balloon part and still not have enough fabric to cover the whole place. And yet, the whole place was unadorned, slightly pitted and worn in places, yet still completely plain stone.

"Hello?" Teller asked. "Is there an Avatar Zero Nine here?"

_ "Unfortunately," _ a big blue man appearing behind Teller said. He whirled around to face the Avatar, and had the unaccountable sensation he looked familiar; perhaps there were only so many ways to portray a blue hologram person. At least this one wasn't a naked woman; he liked Halo, but being pandered to in such a base manner was uncomfortable.  _ "Teller Maxwell Corcoran. I know what you're here for, and the short answer is no. Vesk, Avei, and Kaisa all had an incomplete view of the full picture; poised here at the nexus of all things, I have no such limitations." _

"Oh good lord, what the fuck  _ now _ ," Teller muttered. "Go ahead, tell me whatever new wrinkle has emerged out of the universe's warty anal sphincter specifically to spite me."

_ "Gladly. Put simply, the gates Vesk collected, which you came out of?" _ Avatar 09 asked, rhetorically.  _ "They aren't true gates. They're more like printers. You aren't Teller Maxwell Corcoran of Texas and then New Jersey. You're a  _ copy _ of Teller Maxwell Corcoran of Texas and then New Jersey. This is academic to everyone in the world except you and I, because as far as anyone here can tell, there's only one of you. But to you and I, there's two of you. Or, more accurately, one of him and one of you." _

"...okay, and?" Teller asked.

_ "And, sending you back through this portal- which incidentally does not lead back to your home, but could very temporarily be  _ made _ to do so- would result in one of three outcomes: One, I murder the original Teller Maxwell Corcoran so you may take his place. Two, I murder you and let your world keep turning so that the original Teller Maxwell Corcoran continues living his life unburdened by this experience. And three, I don't murder  _ anyone _ , and now the world and its people have to contend with there being  _ two _ Teller Maxwell Corcorans running around." _

"...Well, now I see your point," Teller said. "All of those sound like terrible ideas."

_ "Indeed they are. Fortunately for the both of us, you've begun to make your peace with living in this world; it's hardly the first time you've suddenly moved far away and had to rebuild your life. This fourth option may still be an imposition on you, but... it is, ultimately, the least bad option available to you. Might I suggest you move to Mathenon, if you want a peaceful life? Nothing interesting has happened in Mathenon in hundreds of years." _

"That  _ does _ sound appealing," Teller muttered.

"And boring."

Teller tipped his head back and groaned as Akane stepped out from behind a standing stone, casually walking up and covering far more ground than she naturally would.

"I've had some time to think," Akane continued, her smile sickeningly sweet. "And you're right, I was  _ very _ out of line with my little joke. And so, here I am, about to make it up to you."

"Oh no, don't you fucking  _ dare _ ," Teller said.

"Avatar! Administrator override- Naiya!"

_ "How may I be of service?" _ Avatar 09 ground out, glaring at the kitsune, clearly unable to resist her command.

"Activate a printing mechanism like the gates," Akane said.

"No!" Teller yelled, seizing the kitsune by the collar of her kimono. "Gods and monsters,  _ don't! _ " Akane contemptuously flicked his nose, sending him flying across the stone platform; he landed in a rolling heap some fifty feet away, but quickly found his feet.

"And produce for us a copy of Doctor Corcoran's family."

_ "As you command," _ Avatar 09 said, as the brilliant light within the central pit fluctuated.  _ "I'm sorry, Teller." _

The first things to be spat out of the portal were a pair of housecats, one solid black with shining fur, and the other a grey that looked pink in the right light, with an abnormally large build and an exceptionally fluffy coat. The pink-ish one landed adroitly on her feet, and the black one rolled clumsily over the floor, but got up quickly and began to meow loudly, bolting over to Teller and quickly climbing up his body to roost on his shoulder.

Next out of the portal was a girl who stood all of five feet and two inches tall, with dark brown hair that looked like a bird's nest, and freckles all over her otherwise mildly tanned skin like she'd gotten her makeup done while it was Jackson Pollock's shift at Sephora. She landed on her stomach, grunting sharply and starting to push herself up with her arms.

The next girl to come out of the portal landed on the back of the first girl, aborting any plans to get up. This one was blonde, with slightly wavy hair, and a much more restrained smatter of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and happened to stand at five foot seven.

The last one out of the portal landed to the side of the other two, thankfully for the both of them; she was tall and strongly built, her arms, legs, shoulders and back thickly corded with muscle. She was colored almost exactly like Teller was; pale skin, nearly-white hair, but where his eyes were a muddy, bloody red, hers were a light shade of blue. Well, one of them was; over her left eye was an eyepatch, and a nasty-looking scar trailed the left side of her head to the edge of her eyesocket, disappearing under the eyepatch's edge before reaching an end.

"Omnu's breath," Teller whispered.

"You're welcome," Akane said, before disappearing.

"...Hey, Teller? What the fuck just happened?" one of the girls asked, lifting her head up.


	10. Epilogue

"-and then, everything from there, you already know," Teller said. "Including our lovely and gracious host Principia Locke, to whom I owe a great deal."

"Damn skippy you do," Prin said, sitting on her bed and reading a newspaper. The only chair in the apartment(which was, it seemed, someone's attic) was currently occupied by Vicky, who'd pitched a fit about sitting on the floor. 

"Hang on, where did you get the bag of holding from?" Amy asked. "Y'know, the one you stuffed us into before flying out."

"I got it from Vesk, the God of Bards, as a token of apology," Teller said.

"And Avei, the other god you met..." Vicky said, stroking her chin. "War, Justice, and Women, you said?"

"Those are her domains, yeah."

"And she hasn't made appropriate restitution to you yet?"

"Well-"

"Can you introduce us, maybe get me a spot as one of her priests?" Vicky asked. "She sounds right up my alley."

"...I make no promises," Teller said carefully. " _ But _ , we can make a trip to Viridill and see what I can do. But after that, I'm... probably going to have to get an actual job, somewhere, because while I  _ do _ have a fair chunk of change from Rainwood, it isn't going to last forever, and we gotta live  _ somewhere _ ."

"I, for one, want to become a wizard or something," Lisa said. "That sounds cool."

"I think I'd like to learn some magic, too," Amy said. "Better than being an accountant or whatever."

"If  _ that's _ what you want, you've got a few options," Prin explained. "Go up the mountain to Tellwyrn and enroll in her university... or, alternatively, go to the Wizard's Guild or the Collegium of Salyrene and enroll  _ there _ ."

"Arachne Tellwyrn has been nothing but helpful and courteous to me, but all the same, she runs a university for  _ adventurers _ ," Teller said. "This is one of the rare times I'll put my foot down- we are  _ not _ going to the University up on that mountain."

"Alright, so... Viridill, then the Collegium," Lisa said. "Where to after that? What're  _ you _ going to do?"

"I," Teller said, staring at his umbrella, "am going to go see Rainwood."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> END OF BOOK ONE


End file.
